


Pressing Roses and Thistle while Ericas fill my Lungs

by Grim Reaper Cultist (DeletedBecauseShy)



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hanahaki, Angst, Diary/Journal, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, Language of Flowers, M/M, coughing up blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeletedBecauseShy/pseuds/Grim%20Reaper%20Cultist
Summary: -Love, yeah...he liked the way the word sounded. What used to be such a mysterious and fantastical idea had now kept him grounded.-Alone, he didn’t like the word. Always feeling empty and starved when he faced it.Loneliness seemed even more inevitable with the petals engulfing his lungs. Vines curled and twisted deep in his flesh.-
Relationships: Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Pressing Roses and Thistle while Ericas fill my Lungs

Ericas seemed to show up every time something important happened in his life. 

They stood in the ceramic vases that surrounded his casket during his funeral,

They swayed slightly in the wind during his first official reap,

And now, individual petals slipped from his lips with each laboured breath. 

The normally light-coloured petals stained by the blood seeping from his lungs. 

What had started with a weak cough had grown into a gruesome scene. His lips wore the dried blood like makeup daily. 

Petals fell from his hand to fill yet another drawer. Doomed to hide until the room was entirely barren late into the night. 

He knew his fate was sealed to end once again. His body would once again rest underground. For eternity this time. 

The idea of achieving the eternal rest he had desired years ago seemed too easy. You couldn’t get something you tried for earlier without suffering. Then, he realised it. 

He no longer wanted to disappear entirely. Maybe because he was no longer the sickly boy bedridden for his entire future, or maybe because he had finally found somewhere he could fit in. With people, he could connect to and learn to love. 

Love, yeah...he liked the way the word sounded. What used to be such a mysterious and fantastical idea had now kept him grounded. Whether it be through the fuzzy feeling he had grown used to or,

Or the pain it caused him. 

But even it was painful for him, he would still grin and bear it for them. He always had been stubborn.

The reminder of his loneliness felt like a punch at first, telltale petals filling his mouth at home on the one day he had finally decided to use one of his sick days. He always tried so hard to avoid being left alone, tried to find someone he truly clicked with. 

Only for his feeling to grow untameable and deadly, still a stark reminder of how his life was set to end. Alone. Just like how it began. 

Alone, he didn’t like the word. Always feeling empty and starved when he faced it. Still, the loneliness followed him like a devoted shadow. Nevermore than a hairsbreadth away. Loneliness seemed even more inevitable with the petals engulfing his lungs. Vines curled and twisted deep in his flesh, not parting until he would draw his final breath.

He continued to sit with his back hunched in an uncomfortable position over his bathroom sink. His legs long since numb and shaking from blood loss, only his arms kept him standing. 

His head was pounding like a fist against a wall, the continual, staccato beats accompanying the ever-growing black edges of his vision. 

The thumping grew louder, ending suddenly with one last sound that echoed throughout his small flat like something had fallen. His field of vision grew smaller and smaller. 

The even beats returned, quieter yet more rushed. He swayed on his feet unevenly, gasping for breath. 

The single loud thump occurred a second time, closer than before. In the very centre on his vision, the only part not blacked out entirely, he saw the door to his bathroom fall to the floor. The sound echoed like before. 

The last thing he heard was the sound his body made when it hit the floor, it was softer than everything that had happened before. Even if the ringing was unbearably loud in his head. He prayed to any god that would listen that it was Eric who had broken in, that Will or even Grell had simply been looking for him. 

The calloused hands running from his eyes up to his forehead answered his prayers like a punch to the gut. 

He tried to say something, an apology maybe? But it came out so jumbled not even he could decipher it. 

“Don’t talk right now. Here, I’ll lay you down. Just try to relax Al’” It was a voice he couldn’t deny, an order that seemed like his only choice. 

His brief sleep wasn’t restful. 

He awoke in a panic, vision blurred into obscurity without his glasses. He quickly registered the pressure on his leg before swiping his hands over to the table. 

Vision restored he was finally able to process the situation. Eric had passed out in a chair next to his bed, the Moon casting a halo around his tousled hair. He blinked awake when Alan moved again, absentmindedly about to comb his fingers through the mess of blond waves. He jerked his hand back right as Eric sat up and cast an angry look his way, waiting to hear Alan’s explanation for why he had let it get so bad without telling him. 

“The petals....they’re Ericas. It’s not reciprocated, it’s just the same as before I guess. Another lonely death.” He could tell Eric wanted to interject with his own opinions. Only holding his tongue cause he knew how stubborn Alan could be on matters like this. “Plus, If I tell them, when they don’t reciprocate they’ll feel guilty. They’re the type of person who always tries to help others, they can be a bit excessive though. I don’t want them to beat themself up about it, okay?” 

Eric spared Alan the speech he had been preparing mentally, content to let the younger man make his own decisions. 

Until he remembered reading about something: one of the drawn-out explanations Othello had talked to him about. The ones he only half-listened to. The catty Reaper had said something about removing romantic feelings as a cure, the only drawback was memory loss in the human subjects he had tested it on. 

Eric voiced his idea to his bedridden friend with a hopeful smile, trying to help like always. He heard a small chuckle from where Alan had curled in on himself with a small cough seconds before. 

“I can’t imagine not having these feelings, Eric. If they will be the end of me than I’d rather it be because of love than because of hate. Listen, I know it’s getting worse but please don’t worry. I don’t mind dying because of how much I love them. At least now I know I can love.” Eric looked at him expectingly, wanting desperately to know what he meant. “I never got to in my human life- love that is. I was sick most of the time and wasn’t able to leave my house often.” His voice got softer and softer with each word. Eventually trailing off until Eric handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. 

They both sat in comfortable silence for a while, Eric only leaving the room when Alan falls back to sleep. 

It wasn’t as bad as before. He felt content now. 

~ 

Eric continued to visit Alan after work for the remainder of the week. They would sit together, something’s talking, sometimes not. 

It was on the seventh day they finally talked about their situation again, a Tuesday, just like before. Eric walking in to find Alan paler than he had been previously, the sheets around him splattered with petals and blood, though his eyes were drawn to the small chunks of flesh. Phosphorescent green eyes were watered over with what Eric hoped was sleep and not tears. 

“I’m sorry you have to see this. I just needed to say something to you, I’ve been holding on alright. Just, sit. Please.” His voice was dry and raspy, reminding Eric of steeping on dried leaves. He walked across the room as calmly as he could, wanting to honour his partner by being as respectful as possible. 

“Alan, if this is hurting you then let go. I know you won’t confess so please don’t put yourself through unnecessary pain just for me.” The bedridden man choked out something that could’ve been a laugh under better circumstances. 

“I just needed to say something before I go is all. I can’t bring myself to say who caused this but I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. Honestly, I want you to know, not that I’ve made it easy for you. I could never bring myself to write it down like a fact. Think of it as one final adventure together. But please, don’t get mad at them. They truly are a wonderful person, I love them. Always will.” Tears streamed silently down his face at the thought of his impossible love. Eric was glad to see that they weren’t tears of pain for once. Alan reached out one of his arms with his remaining strength, a small metal cord hidden in his palm.

Eric joined their hands together just quick enough to feel his partner’s heart slow to a stop. The closed hand falling limp against his own. He felt the individual links of chain press against his skin, and, as resistant as he was to let go, he dropped Alan’s hand down gently onto the bed to examine the gift. A thin metal chain draped over the gaps in his fingers when he opened his fist, a small metal key resting gently in his palm. 

He slipped the chain over his head quickly in the now-silent room. His other hand gliding up Alan’s face to close his eyes. 

~

They arrived for the body within the hour, Eric never once moving from the chair. William was with them, likely to supervise and sign the paperwork related to the death of a Reaper. Given that, Eric was mildly surprised to see him sitting down beside him. “Slingby, I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I’m speaking as your friend and not your manager here. Though, as your manager, I’ve chosen to leave you in charge of his belongings. The room needs to be completely empty by Sunday. That gives you five days. Good luck.” He was out the door again before Eric could respond. Alan’s body carried away immediately after. The workers followed suit, leaving Eric in a lonely room devoid of the warmth of life. 

He twirled the silver key between his fingers idly, his mind racing with thoughts. ‘What lock did the key go to?’ ‘Where even was the lock?’ ‘Would he even want to know what was inside?’ But one question stood out against the others. ‘Who had Alan fell in love with enough to kill him?’ 

Eric started at the bedside table, even if it seemed way to easy for a person like Alan. He checked every corner for a keyhole, taking out everything individually. Pills, glasses, books, and chapstick. It was all too simple. The only thing of note he saw was a large plush skull. Hurriedly shoved into the too-small compartment. 

Next was the closet, filled with perfectly pressed suits. The only thing that stuck out was the messy pile of ribbons Alan would use as tie strings. Beside them was the familiar silver skull. 

He tried the small living room, opening every drawer and box he saw, taking pillows and cushions off of chairs and, nothing. Again. 

The kitchen and bathroom held similar results, the bare-minimum needed to look good. The only personalisation being the soaps in the shower and ingredients in the fridge. 

He walked back to the living room, eyes wandering lazily over the piles of books on shelves. Untouched compared to their surroundings. He figured it was worth a shot. 

‘A history of modern flower arrangement’   
‘The story of Will the Reaper’  
‘Pressing Flowers: a Guide’  
‘The Official Flower Handbook’  
‘Beginner’s German Dictionary’  
‘Amateur French’  
‘Reaper Graduating class of 1850’

He chose to skip over a section that looked eerily like Grell’s bookcase. Past more history books and another book on French, until his fingers traced what appeared to be the newest addition. Hand-bound leather with wine-red decorations coating the spine. He pulled it out carefully, not wanting to crease the immaculate leather. 

The front cover held the same red on brown colours, as did the back. He could see the black leather cord that held it all together. He tried to open it, only for the cover to catch on a small metal clasp he hadn’t noticed. He eyed the key hanging around his neck, guiding it over his head and towards the small keyhole. 

His heart was beating in his head from the anticipation; he had to steady his hand to be able to hold the key steady enough to test it. It slid in gently, it seemed too loose. He wiggled it back and forth gently as a final test, gasping out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding when it clicked quietly. 

He pulled the key back over his neck quickly, slowing himself down to open the latch that he hoped would answer all his questions. The hinges had been used often it seemed, they squeaked in protest when he opened the clasp. 

He flipped to the first page to be met with Alan’s slanted cursive handwriting. His eyes skimmed over the text: 

‘9th of August 1850,

Today was my first payday as a Junior Reaper. I’m glad I was finally able to buy this journal, I’ve been looking at it for a while. I’ve been working with Eric for a little over a week now, it’s been fun. I’m glad I got a second chance.’ 

He flipped the page again, 

‘12 of August 1850, 

Today was a lot of fun! Grell-Senpai taught me some more French during our lunch break. I wasn’t able to see Eric at all though. Hopefully, I can see him tomorrow, I like hearing his stories a lot.’ 

At the bottom of the page was what Eric assumed was French. He considered attempting to translate it, not that he knew how. His mind flashed back to the two French books on the adjourning shelf. 

“Worth a shot I guess.” He speaks to himself, still pretending there is someone else with him. He wished it was Alan, that it really was just another adventure together. A puzzle they would work together to figure out. He grabs for the beginner French book, as well as the French dictionary. 

It’s slow work, deciphering one word at a time while battling with the new grammar. But, he manages it. Three sentences, translating three sentences took him nearly half an hour. Half an hour for worthless information.

‘Are you free tomorrow?’  
‘I love you’  
‘Do you want to get something to eat?’

He has no doubt that Grell chose the sentences, utterly pointless phrases if you asked him. Still, he was determined to find an answer, to solve the puzzle Alan had left him. Anything to stop him from thinking about what had happened. 

The next entry was long, the longest yet. 

‘21 of August 1850,

Being a Reaper isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everyone here is so nice, I know it’s cause they’ve all been through hell already. It’s so nice to be able to walk outside, to look at the flowers blooming in windowsills, smell the fresh-cut grass. I don’t regret dying, not really. Nothing could’ve been worse than living, not for me. 

I always feel so happy when I think about just waking up, I’ve never felt so refreshed. Plus, the company was nice, even if I wasn’t able to understand Eric very well at first.’

Eric can remember that day, sitting next to Alan’s still unconscious body. His own body overcome with the urge to protect the frail body in front of him. They spent a lot of time together at first, between helping Alan relearn how to work and helping him get to the academy every morning. Alan had been so frail when he woke up he could barely move, needing help with the simplest things, Eric was always willing to help. 

The next entry had a much later date, years later. 

‘25th of May 1855,

It’s been so long since I wrote in here, it feels strange. I only got it back out to use as a flower press anyways. Then I remembered I used to write in here. The flowers were so pretty today I just had to pick some to take back.’ 

The bottom half of the page was filled with paper-thin flowers and petals, there seemed to be one flower in particular that appeared multiple times. It’s short but plentiful petals were beautiful shades of pink and purple. He didn’t dare to touch it, afraid of breaking the delicate project Alan must’ve worked so hard on. 

The next pages were filled with more pressed flowers, from familiar roses to ones Eric had never seen outside of florists’ windows. Some accompanied neatly labels and coloured sketches of the same flower. One page stood out to him, whether it be because of the familiar flower or the now-rare entry he didn’t know. 

‘5th of June 1861,

This book has been great for keeping flowers but this one deserves a special entry. I’m so happy I ran into some Scotch Thistle in one of the houses I visited today. I simply had to take a few of the blossoms.’

Bright purple and pink petals stood out against the stark white paper and, unlike before, Eric took one of the blossoms off of the page to look at. He hadn’t seen one in ages, they were rare to see in the city, discarded as nothing more than weeds. Scottish Thistle: the National Flower of Scotland, it certainly brought back memories of having to pull them or risk stepping on the pointy, yellowish spines. He slipped it into the front pocket of his shirt gently and returned to the book. 

There wasn’t another entry for over two decades just pressed seasonal flowers and small sketches. The date of the next one stood out, it was shockingly recent. 

‘18 of February 1889

I didn’t plan on using this as a diary anymore, just as a place to keep flowers. But, I needed to express what just happened. I know everyone is warned about Hanahaki but no one ever thinks it will happen to them. They’re Erica blossoms so I know he doesn’t like me back. I just, my mind is abuzz right now. The first petal was only just a few minutes ago, my heart hasn’t even calmed down yet. I don’t know what I’ll do.’ 

Eric’s eyes widened with the new information, not only a start date but the gender of the unknown person. A man, he was looking for a man Alan respected that would be willing to risk his life for others. It seemed eerily familiar. He flipped to a page to yet another entry. 

‘23 of February 1889,

I coughed up more petals at work today. I just hope no one noticed. There were some flecks of blood this time, nothing too bad but I’m still worried. I hope Eric doesn’t notice anything wrong, I can’t burden him any more than I already am.’ 

Seeing his name in the familiar handwriting made Eric feel...something. He couldn’t place it, like the fast-paced beat of fear with the calming melody of happiness and trust. 

‘5 of March 1889,

Eric came over today, I was such a mess. I passed out in my bathroom just as he came in. I’m sure I didn’t really need to explain the blood and petals everywhere. I’ve been debating giving him the key before I pass. He deserves to know. Not that I can write it out properly.’

Eric can remember watching Alan pass out clearly the week prior. He considers it a blessing he had even considered to check on him in the first place. If Alan hadn’t been so determined to work even when he was sick he wouldn’t have been worried. It was the fact that Alan was always so stubborn that led him there in the first place. 

‘7 of March,

Today was really tough. I’ve decided to give Eric the key though. If you’re reading this, then I guess I’m gone. I’ll hide the book as well, just in case someone else finds the key. Eric, if it is you, I’ll leave you some flowers on the next page, they’re important to me. These ones are special, I hope you understand.’ 

The following page was filled with a combination of Scottish Thistle and red roses. It finally clicked in Eric’s head. The combination of the flower of love and the flower of his home could obviously only mean one thing. Eric didn’t need a book to translate this language. He slipped in a red rose with the thistle from before. 

‘11 3 ‘89

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Eric, please don’t be mad. It’s not your fault. I know how you feel already, the Ericas gave it all away. I’ve really enjoyed working with you. I’m so sorry. Eric, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ 

The placement was sporadic, covering the page from corner to corner. Some text was hidden behind drops of dried blood. Eric further stained the page with tears. 

It likely hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since Alan had scribbled down the date on the page. Even less since he placed the book back in its inconspicuous spot on the shelf. The book should’ve been used so much more, the remaining pages should be filled with flowers Alan found on his reaps. With the small thoughts, Alan would tell him about randomly throughout the day. 

He slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket before cleaning up the house for the last time. 

He would come back the next day as well. To finish all the little things Alan would never be able to. He folded the laundry before packing it away, cleaned the dishes left in the sink before wrapping them in paper. 

On Saturday night he walked out of the empty apartment with only one box, the rest sent off to be donated or given away. It was the only box that mattered to him now. Filled with old books stacked below the sharp metal of a scythe. On the top was only two items: a soft plush skull and a smaller, silver skull with a black ribbon. 

~ 

Eric set his scythe down near the door before walking away to the opposite side of the entry room. He pulled out a small cluster of flowers from his pocket, Sedum and Wax Flowers. He placed them gently into the wine-red vase. The shelf was mostly barren, besides the silver skull and leather-bound book sitting beside it. 

After arranging the flowers carefully as he had read in one of his new books, he headed out the other door. Collapsing o to the bed after a hard day’s work. He absentmindedly pulled the plush skull closer to him, it still smelled like coffee grounds and morning dew.

**Author's Note:**

> This one’s been quite a ride. I originally planned and wrote some Hurt/Comfort Fluff but yeah...that didn’t go through. I had so many alternative ending so to this story that’s i decided that, If this gets good feedback, I’ll write and post them as part of a new series.


End file.
